


Small Talk

by jer832



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Humor, Lingerie, Mild Sexual Content, Sexual Fantasy, Sexual Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-20
Updated: 2015-03-20
Packaged: 2018-03-18 18:32:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3579612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jer832/pseuds/jer832
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor and Jack kill a little time after the trio's latest escapade. The topic is Rose Tyler.  The talk is explicit.  If Jack  has anything to say about it, the Doctor and Rose will have one more escapade this day. Finally.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Small Talk

**Author's Note:**

> Happy 4th Anniversary bad-wolf-rising
> 
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* * *

 

  
  
"And then Rosie says, 'Oi, mate, you may've come to th'costume party lookin' like Superman, but if ya don' get your hand off my bum NOW, you're gonna leave lookin' more like Lois Lane _down there_ '. Oh man! I thought I was gonna lose it! You should've been there!"  
  
"I was there," the Doctor reminded Jack, "talking to the Ambassador while you were supposedly using your infamous chat-up technique to keep Security occupied."  
  
Jack's eyebrow rose at the Doctor's rather testy tone, but he let it slide. "And then, when he starts to give her lip, _boyohboy_ does she make good on her threat! I tell ya, Doc, Rose Tyler did us proud."  
  
"Don't call me Doc."  
  
"Our Rosie knees him, and he goes down like a two hundred pound sack of flour. And it's like Time Herself wanted the moment to last: the titular Head of Security sprawled on the floor holding his package like a box of broken eggs, and our Rosie standing over him, hands on her hips, that look of Lady Justice on her face–yeah well a smirking Lady Justice, you know the look–and she's looking all…all _Wonder Woman_ in that leather bikini costume thing, with the gold chain belt and the red leather boots…"  
  
"I saw Jack, I was there, remember."  
  
"Leather looks good on her, Doc, better'n on you, almost as good as on me. Shows off most everything man or Time Lord would ever hope to see–"  
  
"Man or Time Lord?"  
  
Jack winked. "Save what she's saving for later, for a _private showing_ –you know what I mean. No bulges or dimples anywhere except the ones that suit a woman. Oh yeah, that costume suits our Rosie, Doc! The way it hugged her every curve– That's why leather isn't your thing: you don't have the topology for it, except maybe –" He gave the Doctor a smooth appreciating once-over.  "– south of the border.  No one'd ever know, that shapeless jacket you wear to hide your gorgeous butt."  
  
"What are you talking about? My–my? Jack, are you hitting on me?"  
  
"Nope. Now Rosie, she's a leather person all right, those curves just begging to be covered in buttery-soft supple animal skin–"  
  
"Jack– !"  
  
"What? Don't tell me you've never thought how great our Rose would look covered in soft buttery –"  
  
"No."  
  
"Hmmm… chocolate?"  
  
"N..no."  
  
"Banana ice cream?"  
  
"Never! 'Sides it was just for the Costume Ball. Leather's not really Rose's thing, I mean, sure it looks that is to say but it makes her look like—"  
  
"Fat? No way!"  
  
"I didn't mean–"  
  
"Full, yes; feminine, of course. This evening our Rosie's luscious curves were shown off to their best, displayed… presented… offered up like a gift and a sacrament in the Temple of the Goddess."  
  
"Yes Jack, Rose's luscious curves were completely on public display tonight, which is _exactly_ why–"  
  
"You know, I think that leather bra was hers, not from the TARDIS stores but brought onboard from home."  
  
"Jackie would never let her wear something like that."  
  
"Jackie would never know that she had it. Who does her laundry?"  
  
"The TARDIS."  
  
"The TARDIS gets a good show. Imagine the gentle rinse cycle: little black lace and red satin and TARDIS-blue polka-dotted silk beauties spinning and undulating, back and forth, back and forth, gamboling sensuously in the water all lacy and soft and firm–"  
  
"Yeah yeah. Good for the TARDIS."  
  
"–looking just like they do on Rose, you know? A barely there little piece of silk and lace, but with those little push-up inserts the bra keeps its shape, just as if someone's hands are cradling the two perfect treasures inside. "  
  
"You know, Jack, we really shouldn't be talking–"  
  
"Lucky ship. I wonder where she snaps."  
  
"Probably when she hears you yammering like this about her body and her bras. Jack, you really should keep your big–"  
  
"No, not Rose; her bra. Her bra. Maybe in front. It'd be just like our Rose to have one of those, yeah, quick and clean and more than just a bit of tease to it. Smirking. Driving a man crazy tryin' to get it off from the back, driving him crazy trying to figure what he's doing wrong. And always driving him spare just from wondering what's beneath those smooth skintight tops she wears that makes it look like there's nothin' else, nothin' else at all but Rose, all Rose."  
  
"Spare, yeah… wha?"  
  
"Spare… nuts… into the stratosphere, bye-bye baby. _Verstehen_ Doctor? Can't take your eyes off her, looking for a bump at the place where it closes. Wondering if maybe there ain't no bra at all and it's all youth and sexy genes and naked Rose inside that you're looking at. Damn, it's a cryin' shame there's no reason for her to go braless on the TARDIS except making me happy and we all know where I'll end up if you catch me looking." Jack closed his eyes and breathed in slowly, opened his eyes and smiled. "Without looking, I'd say one-hook front and two-hook back."  
  
"How do _you_ know?" The Doctor growled, giving Jack's throat a look that a vampire would be proud of.  
  
"Simple logic, Doctor. Rose is small. Two's all she'd need, that small. Don't get me wrong, she's not too small, just small enough." Jack grinned.  
  
"Small enough for _what_ , Harkness?"  
  
Jack's fingers itched to show the Doctor–they could make Rosie's exact size too–but he kept them motionless at his side. "You know."  
  
"No. I don't."  
  
"Let me put it this way, then…" Anything more than a mouthful is a waste, he wanted to say. He didn't; he wasn't suicidal. "You're male, _Lord_ of Time; you've got to have imagination even if you don't let on." The Doctor stared at him. He stared at the Doctor. He wondered if among their many superhuman abilities Time Lords actually could blow steam out of their ears. Right. Fine. Obfuscation? Repression and serious emotional denial? Pure, impressive Time Lord stupidity? Jack picked a card, crossed his fingers, and obfuscated right back.  
  
"Just right for her hips. But Rose's hips are another story" He winked. "Still," he said thoughtfully, "Front or back, neither has a downside. Either one, it's _almost_ better to be standing behind her for this, of course."  
  
"Of course. Why?  For what?"  
  
"'For everything your lips can do on her neck and shoulders while your hands are teasing her breasts."  
  
"My hands?"  
  
"My hands then–"  
  
"WHAT?!"  
  
"Well, someone's hands. Santa Claus's hands." Jack's full facile lower lip shrugged his mouth into an amused little smile. "Santa's standing behind her, and he's been a very naughty boy so he'll get some additional treats this Christmas. He slides his hands around the cool smooth skin of her rib cage, his large hands almost cover all the naked skin between her bra and those silky little low-slung sleep shorts she sometimes wears. Santa's fingers come up under the rise of those soft warm globes of perfection, letting him feel their weight in his palms and the slip-slide of silk and lace. There's only that little inconsequential bit of brassiere between Santa's skin and Rosie's, and the feel of two plump little buds beneath the silk and his skin… Rose's sweet breathy sighs as he plays her. He flicks the bra open–only one hook, like I said–the silk falls away and it's just like Christmas morning as Rosie's perfect breasts fall into Santa's hands! He holds them like the priceless gifts that they are, finally taken out from their fancy wrappings.  
  
"Santa's long fingers wrap around her breasts, and the heat of her leaches into his skin, through his bones and blood and brain. He hefts them again; naked they feel even more divine than even his impressive imagination had ever conjured, the silk of her skin smoother and softer and more sensitive than anything touched by him before. His thumbs rasp over those two teasing buds–her nipples are rose, you know, just like her name–and he can feel them growing and firming in response to his touch. Stiff, so stiff."  
  
"Stiff?"  
  
"Yeah, from Santa's touch after that little kiss of cool air."  
  
"Ah."  
  
The Doctor looked to be rubbing his fingers together like squaw wood or something and frowning. "Or," Jack continued smoothly, "maybe his hands are cold, him being from the North Pole–that'd be a shock to those sensitive dusty rose buds, a shock and awakening– _hello!_." Jack winked. "Maybe those nipples gone so stiff because they're asking to be pinched and nipped. Maybe she wants her big tall agile Santa to lean over and suck her hard and strong."  
  
"She likes that? Really? That is, human women, women like Rose… who…who is a representative human after all as well as a representative woman, they really like such treatment? So, um, being pinched and nipped and sucked hard, is something human women like?"  
  
"All women like that. Most men too. Cool fingers caressing tenderly, then firmer, pinching and pulling and harder-tighter, making that sensitive bit of flesh stand up, making it ache for him. A mouth comes down, closes around it, hot and wet. Sucking. Drawing. Nipping. It pulls at something inside. It makes a person squirm, makes a person begin to need something somewhere low and deep, maybe friction, maybe a long hot kiss." Jack sighed, well moaned but the Doctor didn't seem to hear. "Slowly building up the pressure on her builds it in you too, pulling at her nipple starts the same kind of drawing in your nipples, in your belly button, between your legs. And when she squirms her firm little backside against that part of you that's being very empathetic, it's all you can do not to grunt and shift against her. Oh, it's a damn shame you can't really understand or feel it, Doctor. Really a damn shame." He shook his head slowly and frowned sympathetically, which wasn't so hard to accomplish because he'd gotten a good look at the Doctor and his leather jacket was hanging open, and Jack was about ready to cry. "Now where was I? Oh, yeah. Santa turns her around to face him. Slowly. It has to be slowly."  
  
"Has to?"  
  
"And lean down to her, lowering your mouth to her throat."  
  
"Slowly."  
  
"Yeah, kiss her slowly down her throat, giving her time to anticipate… to want. When you get to the pulse point you lick and suck, but lightly first then hard–back and forth like something inside you wants to leave your mark but you're trying to control yourself. She's gonna shudder and she's gonna love it. Kiss your way down to one tight, hot nub and taste her like you'd taste a soft-serve ice cream cone. Tongue and lips and very very slow, lingering. 'Til she moans and pushes into your mouth, then you start to suckle for serious."  
  
"For serious?"  
  
"Her body is telling you just what it wants, Rose is no blushing virgin; she's _showing_ you, with her clever little hand and her talented fingers–  
  
"Though a back-opening bra has its own advantages, 'specially if Santa is coming at her from the front… toe to toe… nose to nose." He looked away from the Doctor, for a moment, like he was looking at something somewhere else. "Heat to heat," he whispered hoarsely, cleared his throat, and adjusted himself.  
  
Jack looked at the Doctor out of a corner of his eye, and caught the Doctor looking at him out of the corner of _his_ eye. He chanced another quick look lower. _"Heat to heat."_. he said and licked his lips. Maybe it was overkill, but Jack could never resist baiting the Time Lord.  
  
"You take your time, you got more control and you got… her eyes on you, and maybe her hands on you. In your hair. Dancing over your scalp. Circling your ears lightly, Then her nails begin to scrape down your neck. She wobbles because, y'know you do that to her, and you have to steady her; so you hold her against you. Know what that means?" He didn't wait, or even look, for the Doctor's response. "Means you're holding _you_ steady and firm against _her_. Heat to heat," he whispered from somewhere deep in his throat where purrs and growls and moans came from. That definitely was overkill, but he couldn't stop himself; he'd taken another look. Lower. Longer. At the both of them.  
  
"Your hands cover her breasts, mold to them like a second piece of silk, and knead her flesh. Your fingers flitter and glide and rub and drag over the Rose-filled satin, an onslaught of different sensations over her sensitive skin. Maybe you tease her, keeping just beyond where she needs your touch like a hunger. Maybe you pinch a nipple. Maybe both.  
  
"You trace the straps, up the front of her, over, and down along her back. Move in toward that double closure. But don’t touch! Instead, your fingers move lower. Explore all that glorious Rose Tyler skin on her mostly naked back. Your hands slide over her backside–maybe they slide inside her pants to cop a quick feel. Maybe you dig your fingers into her flesh and pull her against you so you can grind your hips against her. Oh, she's a small little thing isn't she; you're gonna have to drag her up onto her toes and lift her body up to get it exactly where it belongs so you can move her soft heat over that firm hot part of you that really needs some kind of friction soon… Glen Miller's good for fox-trotting, but you gotta Rock 'n Roll, Doc; Rock 'n Roll… And the melody she plays…"  
  
"Those little sighs."  
  
"Yep. So you got your hands inside her pants, massaging her backside around the thong she's wearing. One hand glides up her side, unhurried but not subtle. She know where it's heading. A quick snap of your fingers pops the bra open and your hand comes around to slide between a soft push-up cup and a soft breast. One hand encloses her perfect little breast, twisting and teasing the nipple. One hand cups her perfect little bottom, kneading and teasing, fingers sliding down the cleft damn close to Paradise. Now if you're good… if you're _really_ good, just before you pull her up, a finger teases her thong and plays just at the entrance, and she's good and ready when you press her against the hottest hardest part of you. She gasps and moans and wraps her legs around you, and then your fingers slide inside, and then you Rock 'N Roll the two of you."  
  
"Rock, and then…?"  
  
"Yeah, anyway, front opener, back opener; it doesn't really matter if Santa knows what he's doing. Removing a woman's bra can be one of the most pleasurable parts of the process for both of you. It's a two-way seduction. If you've done it right it makes her moan and push herself against your everywhere."  
  
Jack made a noise the Doctor didn't recognize. The Time Lord looked at him; Jack's eyes were closed.  
  
"And Doc, your everywhere pushes right back." His eyes popped open and Jack gave the Doctor the smile that made him the Adonis of a hundred star systems in eleven different time periods.  
  
"Still, snap! A fast flick, tits free, pants off and her ass in the air over a jump seat or sofa, your denims around your ankles and an honest wham bam fast-fuck the ma'am has its advantages, don't you think Doc?"  
  
"Jack, get the hell out of here."  
  
Thought you wanted me to help you recalibrate the vertical shift on your cross-thrust stabilizing unit. First you need to verify that your overhauled driveshaft will fit the core interface's differential. Friction could help the control problem, but you need your rod to have enough thrust to hit the mark every time. Drag could be playing havoc with its rhythm; we need to check that. And I'd try adding a little torque at the end.  
  
"Harkness, you can make even dry tech jargon sound dirty."  
  
"Could just be the way your brain is hearing it."  
  
The Doctor rolled his eyes. "I want to check the manual before I start something as delicate as rebuilding the cross-thrust stabilizer."  
  
"Library? I'll get it."  
  
"It's in Gallifreyan, Jack; you'd never find it. I'll go."  
  
With a little smile, Jack watched the Doctor leave the control room. The Time Lord moved awkwardly and with some difficulty. Jack adjusted himself and then called Rose in her room.  
  
"Rosie, hey, what're you up to? ... Could you do me a favour before you shower? We have to make some adjustments under the console before we can travel, or the next forward jump could take us to the fall of Constantinople. My calibrating tool is in the library, and I'm stuck here holding down something on the console. Could you– What? No, the Doctor's getting himself something to eat before he hunkers down for a long haul. I don't expect to see him for a while. Just slip a robe over the costume, it'll be fine."  
  
  


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